Abandoned Harry
by sparkysparky
Summary: Just before Harry turns 6 years old, Vernon is transferred to America. Instead of bringing Harry with them, Petunia abandons Harry in a park. He is found by some unlikely people and the wizarding world is in an uproar.
1. Prologue: June 24th, 1986

**Title:** Abandoned!Harry (Title to change)  
**Author:** SparkySparky  
**Rating: **PG (for now, rating might go higher later on)  
**Chapter:** 1a?  
**Warnings:** Mentions of child abuse in early chapters (very mild), excessive Harry!cuteness.  
**Summary:** Just before Harry turns 6 years old, Vernon is transferred to America. Instead of bringing Harry with them, Petunia abandons Harry in a park. He is found by some unlikely people and the wizarding world is in an uproar.  
**Author's Notes: **I've wanted to read some good fics where Harry is adopted by someone other than Snape (Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Malfoys,etc) but haven't found any, so I chose to write one myself. I know this premise is somewhat over used, but I hope this will be orginal enough to spark interest. If I acutally finish the first story, I may decide to write more fics in this universe, but we'll see where this story goes. Updates will be fairly regular, but with my other two fics, Fate's Follies and Seven Year Itch, currently in progress, this fic will be more sporadic in updates.  
**Disclaimer:** Any recognizable characters obviously don't belong to me sob but there will be several OCs along the way that do.

**Prologue: June 23rd, 1986**

Harry Potter was having the best day of his life. His aunt had woken him early, which was usual, but hadn't made him cook breakfast, or take out the garbage or sweep or anything! Uncle Vernon had taken Dudley on their yearly father-son hunting trip, so Harry figured that was why Aunt Petunia was being so nice, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to make her angry, or to have her think he didn't appreciate the favors.

Every year, for as long as Harry could remember, Uncle Vernon had taken Dudley on a special father-son trip for Dudley's birthday and Harry would get to stay home with Aunt Petunia. Usually, Aunt Petunia would just ignore Harry and let him watch the television and sleep late and wouldn't hit him all week. But this year was different. Better.

She'd even let him eat some of Dudley's sugared cereal, and even though he'd had to do without milk, it was still much better than toast that tasted funny and no jam! And after breakfast, Aunt Petunia had even let him take a bath—with bubbles, and he got to play with Dudley's toy boat and the men and the water monster. He'd never had such fun, and made sure to thank her every chance he got.

After his bath, his aunt had dried him gently, and helped him dress in a pair of jeans and jumper. Even though Harry was almost six, and could dress himself, he liked having Aunt Petunia help him. She was even gentle when she brushed his hair, not like usual, when she was rough and angry and made his head hurt with her hard strokes.

"Harry, how would you like to go to the park?" Aunt Petunia asked.

Harry turned his attention from the cartoons he was happily watching, and smiled brightly. "Oh, can we? I've never been to the park, and Dudley is always saying how it's so much fun, and that the slides are the best and that swings are for babies. I think I'd rather like the swings though, I've seen other children go way up high, like they were flying. Do you think I can fly like they do, Auntie?"

Aunt Petunia smiled at him. Harry thought he saw a flash of something like disgust in her eyes, but decided to ignore it. It was such a wonderful day already, and he wanted to go to the park.

"Come on then, Harry. Let's get your coat and head out."

"Can we bring a picnic lunch?" Harry asked excitedly, as he let Aunt Petunia help him button up his threadbare coat.

"Not today, Harry." Aunt Petunia took his hand as they crossed the street to head to the park.

"Okay," Harry said happily. It was enough that they were outside and the sun was shining, and he saw birdies and squirrels and even a bunny as they walked and walked and walked to the park.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. They had passed quite a few parks already, but Aunt Petunia kept walking. Harry's legs were getting tired, and he was hungry again, but he didn't complain. He didn't want Aunt Petunia to get angry with him.

"We're going to the best park. It's only a bit further, Harry. But we have to go on the Underground to get there."

"Can't we just play in one of the parks we passed already? There were swings and slides and other children in them all!"

"No," Aunt Petunia snapped, causing to Harry to recoil a bit. She visibly calmed herself and said in a softer voice, "I want this to be your special day, Harry, and to do that we need to go the best park in the city. Don't you want to go to the best park? They have a merry go round, and hot fudge sundaes. Don't you want a hot fudge sundae?"

Harry nodded happily, the other parks forgotten. Spontaneously, he hugged his aunt around her middle and said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you Aunt Petunia!"

"Come on, then, the Underground station is just over here."

Harry had only been on the Underground a few times, and each time he was as amazed as he'd been before at the people and the noise and activity. His wide green eyes tried to take everything in at once as Aunt Petunia paid for their tickets, and he giggled when he saw a little man in a green suit tip his hat at him. Harry waved happily, but didn't get a chance to see more of the little man before he had to run to keep up with Aunt Petunia's longer stride.

Soon, Aunt Petunia and Harry were crowded into a car with lots of other people, and Harry had to hold tight to Aunt Petunia's hand to avoid getting smushed against the other passengers. Harry wanted to listen to the announcer who was telling people what stop they were at, but the man spoke too quickly for Harry to understand what he was saying.

Finally, Aunt Petunia shoved her way to the door of the car, dragging Harry behind her. And then they were out of the Underground station and walking briskly along the street until finally—finally—they reached a large, sprawling park.

Harry clapped his hands in excitement and it was his turn to drag Aunt Petunia forward. He could just make out the merry-go-round in the distance, and he wanted to get there as fast as possible.

"Harry, slow yourself, please. I don't want you to tire out too quickly," Aunt Petunia said. "Why don't we get the ice cream before we go on the merry-go-round? Would that be alright?"

"Okay!" Harry yelled. "Ice cream! Yay!"

Aunt Petunia led Harry to an outdoor ice-cream vendor and ordered two ice cream cones. Harry got chocolate, and he licked around the cone before the ice cream could melt, but he was too slow and the ice cream dripped down and Harry giggled when as he licked his hand clean.

This was wonderful! He'd never had chocolate ice cream before, and it was much better than the sugar cereal he'd had for breakfast. Before he knew it, his cone was gone, and Harry was pouting at his sticky hands. Then he remembered the merry go round and smiled.

"Can we go now, Aunt Petunia? Please? I want to see the merry go round!"

"Yes, yes, alright. Let me see your hands," Aunt Petunia said.

Harry held his hands up and giggled when Aunt Petunia gently wiped them clean.

"And you've got chocolate all over your face. Let me wipe it off."

Harry stood patiently as Aunt Petunia made him clean again, and then took her hand as she led him toward the merry go round.

"Will you come too?" Harry asked.

Aunt Petunia shook her head. "No, the merry go round is only for little boys and girls," she said.

Harry looked and saw she was right. There were no grown ups on it, just other boys and girls his age, laughing as their painted ponies when around and around and up and down.

Harry got in line, and soon he'd picked out a white pony with a purple saddle and gold reins. "Look at me!" he called to Aunt Petunia and waved wildly in her direction.

She waved back, a pinched smile on her face. And then Harry forgot to look for her as the horses went around and around and up and down. "Whee!" he cried gleefully, sharing a happy grin with the little black boy on the pony next to his.

"Let's be in a race," the little boy said, and Harry nodded. Playing race sounded like fun.

"Giddyup!" Harry cried and pretended he was on the fastest horse in the world. "I'm winning!"

The other little boy laughed and said, "Okay. But my horse had to go potty, and that's why you won, okay?"

Harry giggled at the thought of the horse going potty and smiled. "Okay!"

When the ride was done, Aunt Petunia was right there to collect Harry, and he launched himself at her. "Did you, see, Auntie? Did you? I was going around and around and I was in a race with the little boy next to me, and I won! Did you see?"

"Yes, I certainly did, Harry. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh yes, but can we go on the swings now? I want to see if I can fly!"

Aunt Petunia nodded, and Harry took off running in the direction of the swings he'd seen on his trip around the merry go round. He didn't even have to wait a turn, because there were two empty swings on the end. Harry jumped on the last swing and waited, but the swing didn't go anywhere. He looked around and saw the other children going higher and higher, but he didn't go anywhere. Maybe his swing was broken.

"You have to push with your legs, see?" asked the same little black boy who'd had the race with him on the merry go round. He pushed his legs out, and then back, and kept repeating it over and over until he was flying like the other kids.

Harry tried and tried, and soon he was flying! "Aunt Petunia!" he cried. "Look at me! I'm flying!"

Aunt Petunia waved and moved to sit on the bench facing the swings.

"My name's Dean," the little boy next to Harry said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Harry. Let's pretend we're astronauts, and we're going to land on the moon!"

"I'm the captain, okay? And you're my first mate."

"To get on the moon, we have to jump out of our space ship!"

"Let's count to three, and jump, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed. "One," he shouted.

"Two!" Dean cried.

"Three!" they screamed together, and jumped off the swings.

Harry laughed wildly as he felt the wind lift him up, and then he was on the ground and rolling to a stop. Dean had landed right next to him, and they giggled madly together.

"That was fun!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yeah! Let's play tag!" Dean suggested. He tapped Harry on the shoulder and shouted, "You're it! Come get me!" And took off racing.

Harry paused a moment, then raced after his new friend, giggling. Dean was fast, but Harry was faster, having learned at an early age that speed was all that would keep Dudley from hitting him. He easily caught up with Dean and tagged him on the back, shouting, "You're it!" and took off running in the other direction.

Soon, other children had joined, but they lost interest when it was clear that Dean and Harry only wanted to tag each other.

After what seemed like hours, Dean and Harry collapsed next to each other on the grass, huge smiles on their faces.

"Thanks for playing tag with me, Dean," Harry said shyly.

Dean giggled and said, "Thanks for playing with me! My brother and sister are just babies and don't know how to play tag."

Harry smiled happily, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Do you want to get an ice cream? I bet my Aunt Petunia will buy us one!"

"I don't know. I need to ask my mom." Dean looked in the other direction, where a pretty lady stood, two littler kids clutching at her hands. Dean sighed. "My mom's waving to me. I guess I haveta go. My baby brother looks tired, and my sister is crying." He heaved a huge sigh. "Maybe we can play again sometime! We come here everyday! If it's not raining."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said, knowing that as soon as his uncle got home, he'd never get to go to the park again.

"Well, see ya!" Dean said and ran off, waving over his shoulder at Harry.

Harry waved sadly as he watched his new friend race towards his mother and gives her a big hug. "Bye!" he called after the nice family.

Harry looked around for Aunt Petunia, a little confused when he didn't immediately see her. She'd been sitting on the bench near the swings just a little while ago.

It was getting dark now, and Harry was hungry again. The ice cream cone seemed ages ago. "Aunt Petunia?" Harry called, but there was no answer. "Maybe she went to get ice cream," he said to himself.

But Aunt Petunia wasn't anywhere near the ice cream stand. In fact, the stand was closed and Harry saw that most people were leaving the park as the sun disappeared and the clouds grew heavy and dark with rain.

Harry didn't notice the first drop of rain; he was too busy retracing his steps around the park, calling for Aunt Petunia. Finally, exhausted, and cold and scared, Harry sat down on the bench near the swings, and started to cry. Shivering with cold, the chilly rain having soaked his coat ages ago, with tears leaving tracks on his dirty cheeks, Harry came to the only conclusion.

Aunt Petunia had left him.

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Petunia sat on the bed she shared with her husband, suitcase at her feet and a pinched expression on her face. She couldn't get the image of Harry innocently eating ice cream out of her mind. But, she'd done what had to be done. That boy couldn't be around her family any longer, his freakishness was starting to affect Vernon, and more importantly Dudley, negatively.

Petunia loved her husband, but she wasn't blind to his faults. Vernon was a hard, cold man with violent tendencies. She knew he would never raise a hand against their son, and if he ever hit her, she would make him pay for it. But Harry. He was another matter. Vernon had always been rough with Harry, slapped him around occasionally, and Petunia knew the situation would continue growing worse with each passing year. She didn't want her husband to kill the brat one day and find himself in prison for murdering a child.

And Petunia also knew her own faults. She was not a loving or generous woman, nor a natural mother. She had just enough in her to love her son and husband, and there was nothing left for her sister's scrawny child. Harry was a nuisance to her, a responsibility she neither wanted nor had asked for.

So, when the opportunity came for Vernon to transfer to the newly opened Grunnings factory in America, she had urged him to take the position as the director of the new facility. Vernon had agreed, but made it clear that Harry was not welcome to move with them.

Vernon had taken Dudley ahead with him to America, and Petunia was scheduled to leave that night on the red eye flight to New York. Vernon's sister Marge had agreed to box up their personal effects and send them at a later date, and she would take care of selling the larger pieces of furniture.

And Petunia had gotten rid of Harry. He would be found, she was sure, by Those People, and would soon forget all about his time with her family. It was really the only solution available to any of them. It was what was best for Harry, and for her family.

And she wouldn't let herself feel guilty for doing what needed to be done to protect her son and husband. Harry would survive. He had that much of her sister in him. Lily had been a survivor too. Up until that good for nothing Potter had gotten them both killed.

The horn of the taxi cab sounded from outside, letting Petunia know that it was time to stop thinking and get on with her life.

After making sure the lights were all shut off, and the doors were all locked, Petunia went outside and climbed in the cab.

She didn't spare a second glance for Number 4 Privet Drive, and wouldn't think of Harry again for years.

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Sophie Thomas shivered as the cool night wind cut through her thick sweater. She still couldn't believe she'd let her oldest son's mournful eyes and pouting mouth convince her to return to the park for the toy train he'd left behind. It wasn't even as if the damned thing would still be there, after all, but Dean had always had a way of getting her to do whatever he wanted. She wouldn't deny that her oldest boy had her wrapped around his little finger.

The park was dimly lit here and there with lampposts, but the majority was left to shadows. Sophie muttered to herself about forgetful little boys and headed toward the swings, the last place Dean swore he remembered having his toy train.

She was so intent on her mission, that she nearly missed the figure curled up under a bench. But she didn't. She thought at first it was a poor homeless person, but as she drew closer she saw it wasn't so.

She stopped in her tracks when she realized the figure was just a young boy. He was lying on his side, one arm holding his legs firmly to his chest. She could just make out the thumb of the other hand in his mouth. He seemed to be asleep.

She looked around to see if he had parents nearby, but couldn't fathom why any responsible parent would have their child out on a night like this. Only, there was no one around. The park was seemingly empty, except for Sophie and the little boy. Sophie stepped closer and knelt down, ignoring the cold earth seeping through her trousers.

The boy didn't move at her approach, and she realized he really was sleeping, or unconscious. From exhaustion most likely, she decided. She reached out and gently shook his shoulder. It was thin and brittle under her hand. Was he homeless then, an orphan living on the streets? She doubted he was even as old as her Dean, so why wasn't there someone looking out for him?

The boy jerked in his sleep and weakly batted at her hand. "Jus few mo' mins, Aunt 'Tunia," he mumbled, eyes flickering behind closed lids.

"Come on dear, you need to wake up," Sophie said softly, shaking him more firmly this time.

The little boy opened his eyes, the brilliant green color taking her by surprise. She'd never seen eyes so purely green before, even when the color was dimmed with confusion and shock.

"Who're you?" he asked shrilly, shrinking back even more.

"My name's Sophie. Do you know where you are?"

He shook his head. "Don't 'member."

"You're at Wolsford Park, just outside London."

He blinked several times and said, "I went on the merry go round and had an ice cream."

"Where are your parents, dear?"

Tears filled his eyes. "They died when I was just a little boy. I live with my aunt and uncle."

"Did you come to the park with your aunt and uncle today?"

"Just my aunt," he whispered. "She left me."

"Oh, darling, I'm sure she didn't leave you on purpose." Sophie held out a hand. "I'm sure she's frantically looking for you, and has probably gone to the police."

He shook his head. "No, she meant to leave me. They don't like me. I'm a nasty little freak." The tears that had been brimming in his eyes spilled over onto baby soft cheeks. "She's not looking for me, and she's not coming back."

Sophie was speechless. She knew, with a mother's knowledge, that this little boy was telling the truth. Unsure of what to do, but knowing she couldn't leave this little boy alone in the dark, she said, "Would you like to come with me? My home is just on the other side of the park, and I have a little boy your age. You could play with him while I phone the authorities and they find your family."

He looked at her with eyes old beyond his years. She grew uncomfortable at his long scrutiny, but finally she nodded his head and whispered, "My name's Harry," and put his little hand in hers.

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Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, glasses in one hand and rubbing his eyes tiredly with the other. It had been twelve hours since the wards on Privet Drive had let him know Harry Potter was missing, and no sign of the child, or his guardians, had been seen.

The door to his office opened, and Minerva McGonagall entered. Albus smiled wearily at the Deputy Headmistress and said, "Is there any news, Minerva?"

"Deadelus Diggle just sent an owl saying he'd seen Harry and his aunt boarding the Underground around lunchtime. He says that Harry waved to him, and then disappeared." Minerva was a handsome, stern woman of around sixty, with dark hair wound tightly in a bun and hazel eyes framed with gold-rimmed glasses.

"This is encouraging information, Minerva. Did Deadelus say anything more?"

She shook her head and said, "You can't possibly be planning to base an entire investigation on information from i Deadelus Diggle /i of all wizards. He hasn't the sense God gave a cricket." Minerva was not a woman to suffer fools gladly, and there was no wizard more foolish in her estimation that the likes of Deadelus Diggle. He'd been a fool in school, and was even more of a fool forty years after leaving Hogwarts.

Albus sighed hugely, his shoulders slumping involuntarily. "I have nothing else on which to base any sort of investigation. Petunia and Vernon Dursley have disappeared, and either taken Harry with them, or left him some place where even I can't trace him."

Albus looked up at Minerva, seeing the slight frown of disapproval on her face. "I know you were never in favor of leaving Harry with the Dursleys, but I did what I felt was best." At the moment Albus looked every one of his one hundred and twenty years.

"I know Albus. It wasn't your fault." She sighed. "I'd best inform the Order of Harry's disappearance. We'll need everyone to search for him. Our best chance of finding him is in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

"Thank you, Minerva."

She turned to take her leave. Her face softened as she took in the Headmaster's gray face and the dark circles under his eyes. "Really, Albus, get some sleep. You're still recovering from that cold. You'll not do Harry any favors if you drop from exhaustion and suffer a relapse. I'll inform you of the Order's progress first thing in the morning. And take your medicine, or I'll send Poppy up to check on you."

"You know best, Minerva," Albus said to her retreating figure. "You always have."

The door shut firmly in her wake, but Albus did not move towards his private quarters. Instead, he sat at his desk, head in his hands and whispered, "Harry, my dear boy, please be safe."

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Harry sniffed as the pretty lady—Sophie, he remembered—took him by the hand and led him out of the park. He was cold, and hungry and had to go potty, but most of all he was scared.

When he'd finally realized Aunt Petunia had left him, just like she'd always threatened to do when she told Harry he was a nasty little boy, he hadn't been able to do anything but cry. And then the rain had started and it got dark, and everyone knew there were monsters in the dark—monsters with scary red eyes and a stick that shot green light at people.

And then he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't meant to, but he was so tired he couldn't keep his eyes open. But when he woke up, Sophie had been there, and she was nice and pretty and smelled good—like a Mommy. Or like how Harry had always thought a Mommy should smell—like flowers and cookies and love.

And she wanted to take Harry home with her, and didn't seem to think he was a nasty little boy. But she didn't know his secret, and Harry wasn't ever going to tell her. He didn't want her to know he was a freak.

"How old are you Harry?" Sophie asked, as they walked through the park.

"Almost 6," he answered shyly.

"I have a little boy who is just your age. He turned six in April."

"What's his name?" asked Harry.

"Dean. I also have two smaller children, Izzie and Derek, who are both two. They're twins."

Harry's eyes grew wide. Could this lady's son be his new friend he'd made just today in the park? Dean was the same color as Sophie, and had a little brother and a little sister. Oh, he hoped so. Dean was fun and didn't tease or hit when he played.

They stopped before a tall building. It was taller than the sky, Harry thought. He liked the flowers in some of the windows, and there was a man with an umbrella outside. "Who's he?" Harry asked pointing at the old man. He liked the man's whiskers, they were white and bristly looking.

"That's Mister Jake. He let's people in and out of the building. He's a very nice man; you don't have to be afraid of him. He likes children, little boys especially." Sophie leaned down to whisper in Harry's ear. "He'll probably even have a sweet for you."

Sophie stood up and took Harry's hand again. She led the way carefully up the slick steps and smiled at Mister Jake.

"Good evening, Mrs. Thomas," Jake said, in a rumbly voice. He smiled down at Harry. "And who's this little fella?"

"This is Harry. He seems to have lost his family," she said. "He'll be staying until we get this straightened out."

"Well, welcome, young Harry. I'm Mister Jake, and I look after this building." He reached in his pockets and came out with a small candy wrapped in gold foil. "For you, sir," he said with a bow.

Harry giggled and shyly took the present. He tucked it in his own pocket for later, just in case he needed a snack. "Thank you, Mister Jake," Harry whispered.

As Sophie led him to the lifts, he looked over his shoulder and waved at the old man. Mister Jake waved back with a bright smile.

Harry thought he might like it here.

The staff room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was overflowing with people, and the noise level had long since passed loud. Minerva had nearly given up trying to establish any sort of order, and was hoping that the Order members would soon tire of shouting matches and settle down. They needed to formulate a plan to find Harry, and they needed to do it quickly.

Finally, when it was clear the shouting was a good ways from being done with, Minerva brought two fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle. It was enough to stop even the most vocal Order members mid-tirade.

"Enough," Minerva said, in the same voice she used to cow unruly students during class. "This fighting is getting us nowhere." She sent a steely-eyed glare at each person in the room and continued, "Now, to focus on what's really important, Amelia Bones will summarize what we know at this time. Amelia," Minerva turned to a stately witch sitting near the front of the room, "go ahead."

Amelia stood and opened the small notebook she'd been holding in her lap. "Harry Potter has been missing going on fourteen hours. No one has seen him since noontime. We know his aunt left the house with him at approximately 10:30 a.m. June 24th. We have no knowledge of where they were going, or if this excursion had been planned or was spur of the moment. Past history indicates that Petunia hardly ever took Harry out of the house, and when she did, it was for short trips to the market. Deadelus Diggle," she glanced quickly at the small wizard, "claims he saw Harry in the Muggle Underground—though what possessed you to be in the Underground is beyond me, Mr. Diggle—at approximately 12:00 pm on June 24th. We also know that Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt, returned home at approximately 5:30 p.m. the same day. There was no sign of Harry, and Petunia left home in a taxi not even an hour after returning. There has been no sign of any of the Dursleys or Harry Potter since that time."

An explosion of sound was cut off abruptly by Minerva raising a hand and saying, "Several groups have been assigned to search the area surrounding the Dursley home, in a parameter of ten kilometers. However, if Petunia did enter the Underground, there is no way to retrace her steps."

Kingsley Shaklebolt, a handsome young Auror stood up. "So far, reports from the search groups have yielded no new information. Unfortunately, it seems that if we can't locate the Dursleys, Harry could remain missing indefinitely." He regarded the crowd solemnly. "Alastor Moody is in charge of the search mission, and he's the best there is."

It was unsaid that if Moody couldn't find Harry, than no one could. But the knowledge was there, the proverbial pink elephant in the room.

Arthur Weasley, who was in attendance with his wife Molly, stood up. "What about the Death Eaters? Will they be able to find Harry?"

It was Kingsley who answered. "As you know, any suspected Death Eaters who escaped trial at You Know Who's disappearance, have been lying low for the past four and half years. There is no way of knowing who has information we'd rather they not have, but it is almost certain that unless they have a eyes everywhere in London and the surrounding areas, they are no more equipped to find Harry than we are."

"What about tracing magical signatures?" asked Hestia Jones, a plump witch with a friendly face asked. "If Harry performs accidental magic, would we be able to trace him?"

"It is highly unlikely that a reliable trace could be detected," Minerva replied. "Even if we could isolate the signature specific to Harry, we'd only know the general vicinity in which he performed the accidental magic. We'd be no closer to knowing exactly where Harry was than we are now."

"So, you're saying it's hopeless?" Molly Weasley demanded. "You're saying there's no hope of finding that little boy?"

Minerva sighed. "I'm saying no such thing at this time. But, I have to be honest. If Harry is not found within the next forty-six hours, the chances of us finding him before he receives his Hogwart's letter are slim, if not non-existent."

Everyone was silent for a few moments, letting the severity of this information sink in. The press would have a field day if this information became public, Minerva thought. i Boy Who Lived Missing—Presumed Dead in a Death Eater Raid /i . The headlines would cause the whole wizarding world to panic. The fear of the Dark Lord's return was already high among them, the disappearance of Harry Potter would only feed the fire.

"We'll find him. We have to," Minerva said, more confidently than she felt. But she saw her unease mirrored on the faces of every single person in the room. "Kingsley, I want you to return to the Ministry and form a small task force. Aurors with knowledge of Muggle police proceedings would be best and make sure they can be trusted and don't mind bending a few Ministry regulations. Take them and talk with the Muggle authorities. But don't arouse too much suspicion. If they know nothing of Harry, leave it be. I don't want to have to perform Memory charms on an entire Police force. I want status reports quarterly—every three hours, reported directly to me."

Kingsley nodded. "Yes, Professor," he said and hurried out the door.

The rest of the Order members assembled were assigned tasks and left to begin them. When the room cleared, only Minerva and Amelia were left. The two women shared a bleak look, and left together for Dumbledore's office. He would need to be updated on what happened at the meeting.

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After stepping off the private elevator that led directly to the Thomas' penthouse apartment, Sophie quickly settled Harry at the kitchen table and said, "Wait right here for a moment, alright Harry?"

Harry nodded and smiled sweetly. "Okay," he agreed.

Sophie smiled back and went to find her husband. Mark was in his study, blueprints spread out in front of him. Dean was asleep on the couch, his favorite stuffy bear cuddled close. "How long has he been out?" she whispered, smiling lovingly at her oldest child.

"About twenty minutes or so. He wanted to help me be an architect," Mark laughed. Dean idolized his adoptive father, but Mark's hectic office schedule kept him away from his family long hours. "Any luck?" he asked as Sophie leant down to kiss him hello.

"Depends on what you mean by luck," Sophie replied, perching carefully on Mark's desk, being sure to avoid sitting on the blueprints. "I didn't find Dean's train, but I did find something much more important."

Mark groaned. "Tell me you didn't bring home another stray," he pleaded. "Aren't two cats and a dog enough for you?"

"I didn't bring home a stray animal," Sophie laughed. She knew that Mark loved their animals almost as much as he loved their children. "I think you'd better come see for yourself." She stood and offered a hand to Mark.

He looked at her warily, but took her hand and followed her to the kitchen.

Mark stopped short when he saw the dark haired little boy at his kitchen table. "Oh, Soph," he whispered, "what have you done now?"

Sophie sighed. "I found him in the park. Apparently he had been with his aunt, but she either forgot him, or just left him. What was I supposed to do? Leave him there?" She made sure to keep her voice soft as to not startle Harry. "It was raining and cold, and he was scared. Bringing him home was the only option."

"You could have gone to the police. His aunt is most likely looking for him."

Sophie shook her head negatively. "No, somehow I don't think she is. Harry—that's his name—was quite clear that his aunt was not a good woman. He was certain—resigned really—that she'd left him there and had no plans on returning for him."

"We still need to turn him over to the authorities. There are laws and procedures in place for this sort of thing."

"Mark, it's late, and Harry has had enough trauma for one day, don't you think? What can it hurt to keep him here over night and contact his aunt in the morning? Harry needs food, dry clothes and sleep more than he needs to be questioned by police officers." Mark still looked unconvinced. "Mark, he's the same age as Dean, and he's alone. Please darling? It's just for one night, and we can decide what to do in the morning."

Mark sighed in defeat. In their three years of marriage, he had never been able to deny Sophie anything. "I'll get him a pair of pajamas and set up the cot in Dean's room."

Sophie kissed him in thanks and stepped further into the kitchen. She placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder, but even that slightest touch made him flinch and hunch his shoulders.

"Harry, dear, it's just me, Sophie." She was relieved when Harry almost immediately calmed visibly. She smiled reassuringly at him and said, "Now, I'm sure you're starved, would you like a sandwich?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, please."

"Do you have a favorite? Toasted ham and cheese, or I think I have some pastrami."

Harry was quiet for a moment as he considered the options. Finally he said, "Ham and cheese, please."

It sounded more like a question to Sophie but she ignored that little oddity and said, "And a tall glass of milk, I suppose."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"You're quite the polite young man, aren't you?"

Harry blushed and ducked his head as Mark returned to the kitchen, a pair of Dean's pajamas in his hand. They were red with fire engines and Dalmatians on them. Harry watched Mark come closer with wide eyes before ducking his head and growing even paler than he'd been before. Even when Mark knelt down and introduced himself, Harry wouldn't look him directly in the eyes.

Sophie wondered at this behavior, but decided not to say anything about it until she and Mark were alone. Instead she said, "Harry, this is my husband Mark. He's got some pajamas for you. Why don't you let him help you get changed while I finish up our sandwiches?" She smiled brightly at the two of them, and was relieved when Harry nodded in reply.

"Hiya, Harry," Mark said, toning down his usual boisterous voice in deference to Harry's behavior. "The bathroom's just down the hall." In an action that was as natural to Mark as breathing, he plucked Harry from the chair and plopped the boy on his feetl. It was something he did everyday with his own children, but they never stiffened in reaction the way Harry did. Mark pretended that nothing was wrong and said, "Follow me, Harry. We'll get you changed in no time."

Mark headed toward the bathroom, relieved when Harry followed behind after a moment's hesitation. Mark pushed open the bathroom door and gestured for Harry to go in first.

He was about to follow Harry in when the boy whispered, "I can dress myself. You don't have to help me."

Mark blinked and said, "All right then, if that's what you'd prefer. I'll see you back in the kitchen then, okay?"

Harry nodded and took the pajamas Mark was holding out to him, and shut the door gently behind him. Mark waited a few moments to make sure Harry wouldn't change his mind. When he heard the toilet flush and the faucet turn on, he decided Harry was just fine and went to join Sophie in the kitchen.

She was just sliding three sandwiches to plates when Mark entered. She looked at him curiously.

"He didn't need help?" she asked.

Mark shrugged. "Said he could dress himself, so I left him to it."

"Independent," Sophie noted as she poured milk into three glasses. They didn't have time to discuss Harry's behavior in more detail as Harry chose that moment to re-enter the kitchen.

The red pajamas were considerably too long in arm and leg, but Sophie had already noticed that Harry was of slighter stature than Dean. It seemed that Harry had taken time to wash his hands and face, and to comb his hair. She hid a smile when she noticed the smudge of dirt by one ear that Harry had missed.

"Well, don't you look warm and cozy," she said easily and patted a chair. "Hop on up and eat, then it's time for bed."

Harry grinned and did as she said. Sophie set a plate in front of him and then took a plate herself and sat down across from Harry. Mark sat next to her with his own plate, and the three of them enjoyed their sandwiches in comfortable silence.


	2. Chapter 1: June 25th, 1986

**June 25th 1986**

_Penthouse Flat, Copper Towers, London_

Dean Thomas had always been told he was an inquisitive child. He didn't know what the word inquisitive meant, but he had practiced it over and over in his head until he could say it without stumbling.

He thought it meant he liked to have Adventures, because his mother always called him her little Indiana Jones. Dean knew that Indiana Jones was a type of Adventurer who went to the desert and fought snakes. He also knew that his first Daddy had been an Adventurer, but he didn't remember him at all because he had died when Dean was just a baby.

Dean liked being an Adventurer, because it meant he got to spend lots of time in his room, playing Pretend and building forts. His brother and sister were too little to play at Adventures and sometimes Dean got a little lonely but then he'd make up a new friend and they'd go on Adventures together.

Sometimes though, Things would happen. Like one time, his Pretend friend really was there and broke a lamp and Dean got into trouble for telling fibs. So he'd learned not to tell his mom and dad about the Things that happened when he was Pretending.

One morning when Dean woke up, he lay in bed thinking of all the Adventures he could have that day. He remembered the little boy from the park and their Adventure to the moon and hoped that when he went back to the park today, Harry would be there. It had been fun to have someone who wasn't a Pretend friend to play Pretend with.

Not able to stay in bed any longer, Dean jumped up from bed and stopped in his tracks. There was a boy in his room.

The boy was sleeping on the put-away cot his cousin Drew slept on when he came to visit. But it wasn't his cousin Drew. Dean knew this because this boy was white not brown like Dean and Drew were.

Dean crept closer to the boy, wondering if this was another Pretend friend who'd become real while Dean was sleeping. But it wasn't a Pretend friend because it was the boy from the park—Harry.

"MUMMY!" Dean hollered running into the hall. "MUMMY THERE'S A BOY IN MY ROOM!"

Sophie peered out into the hall from the kitchen and smiled as Dean ran down the hall toward her. "Yes, there is, and we should try to be quiet and let him sleep. He had a late night yesterday."

Dean stopped when he reached the kitchen and stood panting for breath for a moment. "Why's Harry here, Mummy? Where's his auntie?"

Sophie looked at Dean in confusion. "How'd you know his name?" she asked.

"He's the little boy from the park, Mummy. We played astronauts and tag. Don't you 'member?" Dean looked at her, expecting her agreement.

Sophie nodded, wondering at the smallness of the world. She was glad, for Harry's sake, that at least one person in the household would be familiar to him.

"Where's his auntie?" Dean asked again. "Did she get lost?"

Sophie tried to think of an appropriate response and settled for, "Harry will be staying with us for awhile. His aunt had to go away."

"Like my first daddy?" Dean asked his amber colored eyes serious.

"Not quite like that. His aunt will be back to get him soon," Sophie said, though even she doubted the validity of that statement.

Dean shrugged. "Okay. I'm gonna go wake him up so we can have an Adventure while we wait for his auntie. Can we have eggs and bacon for breakkies? I want a smiley face, and I bet Harry does too."

Dean was running back to his room before Sophie could respond.

She sighed and returned to the kitchen and started getting together the makings for bacon and eggs. As she was cooking, she tried not to think about what would happen to Harry if his aunt didn't come for him. Mark had headed for police headquarters two hours ago, and Sophie expected him back at any time.

She was just beginning to fry the bacon when Mark entered the kitchen, his hair wet from the rain outside. She turned to him and saw the frown on his face, and knew his visit to the police hadn't gone well. "What happened?"

Mark sighed and slumped into a chair, his forehead dropping down to rest on the table. "Harry Potter doesn't exist."

_Office of the Headmaster, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland_

Minerva sat in the high backed chair adjacent to Albus' fireplace and stared blankly into the flames. Harry Potter had been missing for over 24 hours and there was no evidence that the Order, even working with the Aurors, would ever find him. The Dursley's had disappeared leaving no trace behind, and because of Harry's parentage, he didn't exist in the eyes of the Muggles.

"How did you not think to provide Harry with appropriate Muggle documents, Albus?" Minerva asked without looking at her mentor. "Do you know the tangles Moody had to fix after questioning the Muggle authorities about Harry Potter? It was nearly impossible to keep the Minister from handling it himself, and we both know what a disaster that would have been."

Albus sighed and stood up from his head across from Minerva to pace. "I have no explanations, Minerva, except that in those first few days after Voldemort's defeat, I was up to my ears in people needing me to do something. Contrary to everyone's opinions, I am but human and thus have the human capacity to err."

Minerva felt shame well up inside her, and she said, "I'm sorry Albus. I know that the Wizarding world looks to you for guidance; to know what to do. I didn't mean to make this your fault. Forgive me?"

Albus smiled sadly in her direction, his brilliant blue eyes dimmed from the stress of the past day. "There is nothing to forgive. If I had listened to you in the first place, and taken time to assess the situation before hand, I would never have left Harry with his mother's sister and her husband. But it was i my /i decision and therefore this is my mistake."

Albus went to the bird stand where his phoenix, Fawkes, was perched. Fawkes' normally brilliant plumage was drooping, a sign that the phoenix was near his Burning Day. Albus reaching out a hand and gently smoothed the rough feathers of Fawkes' chest. The phoenix trilled sadly, perfectly mirroring the emotions of the two humans.

"Albus," Minerva said softly. "We'll find Harry, I promise. And when we do, we'll bring him home."

Albus turned his ageless eyes in her direction and smiled. "I truly do hope you'll do that, Minerva, but we must be prepared for the eventuality that Harry cannot be found until he receives his Hogwart's letter."

_Penthouse Flat, Copper Towers, London_

Harry awoke as he always did—asleep one moment, awake the next. He reached over the side of his cot for his glasses, but his hands only brushed open air. He blinked owlishly at his surroundings, realizing suddenly that he wasn't in his cupboard under the stairs.

He also slowly became aware of a strange weight on his legs. He sat up and shouted. The boy on his legs smiled at him and held out his glasses.

"Hi Harry! 'Member me? We played astronauts yesterday! 'Member? We went to the moon and fought aliens!"

Harry slipped his glasses on, pushing them up on his nose when the slipped down. "Why 'm I here?" he mumbled sleepily. "Where's Aun' 'Tunia?"

Dean shrugged. "Mummy said you get to stay with us."

He jumped off the bed and danced around the room happily. "Wanna go treasure hunting? Daddy hided stuff in his office for me to find! We can be 'Venturers."

Harry's eyes filled with tears as the memory of last night came back to him. He remembered the cold and the scary shadows and the thought that the red-eyed man would come get him.

"She left me," Harry said, feeling the shock come back. "Aun' 'Tunia left me."

Dean didn't know what to do when Harry started crying. He wanted to get Mummy, but couldn't move.

He didn't know what it meant, so he helped in the only way he knew how.

He started crying too.

_Auror Office, Ministry of Magic, Level 2, London _

Kingsley Shacklebolt was the youngest Auror in a century to have been promoted to the Special Division.

He'd entered Auror training directly after leaving Hogwarts, and been fast tracked through the program.

Just a year after his training was finished, he'd been promoted to Field Agent. A year after that he'd been named Special Auror in Charge, making him the youngest Squad Leader in fifty years.

Kingsley's superiors were impressed with the young man's intelligence, dedication to truth, honor and justice, and his clever way with a wand.

Which was why they'd assigned him to the Harry Potter case, working directly with Alastor Moody.

"Have you found anything?"

Kingsley looked up from the mound of paperwork and grimaced at Gawain Robards, his supervisor.

"There's no trace of him, sir. As soon as they left the house, the wards and protections stopped working," Kingsley said, though he suspected Robards knew this already. "Moody and Dawlish are canvassing the area, speaking with neighbors. They've asked me to check every major train station and airport in the area, but so far I've found nothing that will lead us to Harry Potter."

He looked back down at his notes, and then up, a grim expression on his face. "It seems that Harry doesn't exist in the Muggle world, sir. There's no record of him ever having been born."

"Well, damn," Robards muttered. "That makes our job that much harder." He took a seat across from Kingsley. "What about the aunt and uncle? Any trace of them?"

"We haven't found a way into the Muggles' database, sir, without causing alarm among them. We've checked the airports, but passenger lists are confidential unless it's a case of a state emergency." He sighed. "And the disappearance of a child that doesn't exist is not a state emergency."

Robards sighed as he stood. "You're doing as well as can be expected, Shacklebolt. Keep me apprised of the situation, if you would. And if you see Moody or Dawlish in the next hour, ask them to come to my office. Scrimgeour wants a report immediately."

Kingsley just barely managed to keep the sneer off his face at mention of the Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour. The man was a phony, and only out for the notoriety of the position.

"Yes, sir," Kingsley said, turning back to his notes as soon as Robards had left.

He had a long night ahead of him.

_Daily Prophet, June 25th, 1986, Front Page _

**Boy Who Lived – MISSING**

http:// pics. livejournal. com /sparkysparky /pic /00004dt7

_(To properly view the Prophet article, remove the spaces from the above address, or visit my live journal http:// sparkysparky. )_


	3. Chapter 3: June 25th, 1986

So, my Abandoned!Harry project has hit a rock wall, and I've not made any headway on it in months. So, instead of keeping what little I do have of Chapter 3 hidden, here's a little snippet. I have a vague sense of where I want the fic to go, but my fic writing time has been very little and far between these days, and I have a couple of holiday fest fics to write, so i'm not sure when I'll come back to this again. Probably sooner than later, because little!Harry really does make me smile. But with the advent of Book 7 canon, I have some areas to iron out, but I actually think it will make the fic stronger in the long run. Anyway, I really like this little snippet, as these two characters fascinate me recently, and will probably end up stealing the whole fic. Or parts of it. So, here is the first part of Chapter 3.

**June 25****th****, 1986**

_Daily Prophet Office, 3__rd__ Floor, Diagon Alley _

Kingsley barged onto the newsroom of the Daily Prophet, the most current issue crumpled in his hand. His face was a study of fury, and most people he glowered at scrambled out of his way as fast as they could.

Rita Skeeter was not most people. She pushed her chair away from her desk and stood gracefully, straightening her spine and throwing back her shoulders, making herself as tall as she was able, helped by five inch stiletto heels. She didn't flinch when Kingsley's large hand slammed down on her desk.

"Problem?" she asked, flashing him a bright smile, ignoring the sudden racing of her pulse as he stared at her with those dark, intense eyes.

Kingsley breathed deep through his nose, trying to calm his temper. Only i she /i had ever been able to make him feel equal parts lust and anger, all within the space of thirty seconds. "What is this?" he ground out, teeth clenched. He shoved the paper across the desk.

"It's a newspaper," Rita said, her tone suggesting she was talking to someone mentally impaired. "Didn't they teach you to read at the Auror Academy?"

Kingsley's hands clenched on the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening. He'd never wanted to throttle her more. "I know it's a newspaper," he whispered, a sure sign his temper was close to a boil. "I meant the article." He turned the paper over and pointed to the head-line of the front page. "Do you realize how much you've managed to fuck up our investigation?"

Rita didn't spare the newspaper a glance, walking calmly around the desk instead. "The public as a right to know, Kings," she purred, brushing past him, letting her fingers trail across his back. "The Aurors don't have anything to hide do they?"

Kingsley whipped around, one large hand closing over Rita's bare upper arm. As always she wasn't wearing robes, choosing instead to highlight her slender frame with a sleeveless low-cut blouse and short black skirt. His hand tightened until he knew he'd left a bruise. Rita just smirked at him, refusing to give an inch by wrenching her arm away.

"Did I hit a nerve King?"

"Bitch."

"Can I quote you on that?"

Kingsley glared at her, hand tightening just a fraction more, before he roughly pushed her away. "We're done here," he growled.

"Oh, we're just beginning." Rita smirked, refusing to rub her arm until he'd left. Bastard.

"If I see any more of that trash printed, I'll…"

"You'll what?" Rita asked, her smirk widening into a superior smile that made Kingsley want to hit her or kiss her or do something to wipe it away. "I'll print whatever I like. There's nothing you can do, King. And you know it."

Kingsley made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, before turning on his heel and striding angrily to the lift. Once the doors had closed behind him, he leaned against the wall, one hand going to the front of his robes to adjust the rock hard erection she'd given him. Damn her, he thought, as he exited the Prophet building and made his way back to Headquarters, though he didn't know how he was going to concentrate. There had to be some way to get her out of his system.

Back at her desk, Rita cast a glamour charm over the bruise Kingsley had left on her arm. Her panties were wet and she licked her lips as the image of a furious Kingsley pressing her against her desk popped before her eyes. Damn him, she thought, now she wouldn't get anything productive done today. There had to be some way to get him out of her blood.


End file.
